Title: Objects of My Affections, 1
Summary: The beginning of a beautiful fetish.
Word Count: 345
The first time she ever wore a skirt he stared at her legs for five minutes before she ordered—not asked but ordered—him to stop ogling her.
She doesn't have long legs (she barely comes up to his shoulder when he stands up straight) but they're shapely and firm and he spins at least eighty new fantasies around them alone that would have made her blush bright red, possibly permanently. He doesn't share this with her because there's a good chance she'd never talk to him ever again, and it took him a ridiculously long time to convince her he wasn't a complete dick, he just had his moments, that's all (though he knows he'd enjoy watching her sputter and fidget, and realizes this is probably evidence to the contrary of his assertion).
And then came the day she wore the blue skirt.
It was shorter than the other ones she usually wore, but still long enough that no one but a hard-line conservative would object.
And Saitou worshipped that skirt.
He freely admitted it, wasn't at all embarrassed by it, because the slits up the sides always flashed a little bit of thigh when she walked, and that was reason enough to worship a skirt in his book. So he began keeping mental track of her wardrobe so that he could predict when next he'd get to worship the skirt. And after a year, he had it down to a science: the skirt made an appearance every two weeks while it was still warm out, and the days it was most likely to appear were Thursdays, Fridays or Saturdays.
And if that was a little creepy-stalker-ish…well, so what?
The skirt made him happy, as ridiculous as that was. Those brief little flashes of thigh courtesy of those slits made his day. Hell, made his week.
So of course he'd hold the skirt near and dear to his heart.
And if that was a little creepy-pervert-ish…well, so what? At least he wasn't trying to steal the damn thing from her closet.
…For now.